


Easy as Raz Dva Tri

by azriona



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, So Married, Tumblr Prompt, learning is fun!, the boys are in saint petersburg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: Yuuri wants to surprise Victor. Victor wants to surprise Yuuri.Well... at least they're surprised, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blacktail_chorus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktail_chorus/gifts).



> I was bored and asked Tumblr for prompts. Tumblr user blacktailchorus asked for "Character A is trying to learn a new skill without looking like a noob in front of Character B."
> 
> Russian translation is mine (because this much I actually remember), but shout out to my husband who helped with pronunciation because mine is terrible. (Google is wrong, friends, you count "raz dva tri", not "odin dva tri", if you're wondering about the title.) Unbeta'ed, so feel free to point out any typos I may have missed.

Yuuri tried to open the door as quietly as he could – but considering that Victor’s door probably predated Glasnost, it was a lost cause before he even stepped off the elevator.

_Clank clunk SCHPRIIIINNNNNGGGGG_

Yuuri didn’t know what made the _schpring_ sound. He didn’t want to know. Some things were better left a mystery, like the various sounds of Victor’s door, or Georgi’s hair.

“Yuuri?”

Makkachin let out a soft _woof_ of greeting, before padding over to Yuuri, who was already gripping the shopping bag in his hands and looking frantically for a place to stash it.

“Oh, wow, hi, is that dinner I smell?” said Yuuri, as loudly and cheerfully as he could manage as his gaze darted around the apartment. There weren’t many options in terms of hiding places. Open bookshelves, open floor space, no closets anywhere. Even the couch was high off the ground. “Makkachin, _no_ , that’s not for—”

Yuuri shoved the bag under his coat just as Victor popped his head out of the kitchen. “I’m _cooking_.”

“I could smell it down the hall,” said Yuuri. “Whatever it is, it’s a nice change from cabbage.”

Victor’s grin was a thousand watts, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. You look cold, you should go take a hot shower to warm up, and then it’ll be ready!”

“That’s a _great_ idea, I will _absolutely_ do that,” said Yuuri, grateful for the excuse to get the heck out of Victor’s sight.

“Make sure you close the door to keep the steam in!” Victor sang after him, and Yuuri wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Makkachin hopped up on the bed. He watched as Yuuri quickly shed his coat, and dropped the bag on the desk next to his laptop.

“Fifteen minutes is plenty of time to set this up,” he told the dog, and quickly booted up his laptop. It only took a few minutes to load the language program, and Yuuri remembered to turn on the shower, too – all the better to cover what he was about to do from Victor’s hearing.

Then again, considering the noise Victor was making in the kitchen, it wasn’t likely Victor would hear him anyway. It sounded more like Victor was trying to record a heavy metal rock album using every single pot and pan as an instrument, and less like he was making dinner.

The singing, though. At least the sound of the shower drowned _that_ much out, if not the clash and bang of pots and pans all clattering to the floor at once.

Yuuri stripped out of his practice clothes, jumped in the shower for exactly as long as it took to get wet, and then sat down at the laptop to open the new program.

It didn’t take long to get started.

“Eda malsheek,” he said into the headset. A sad little _dong_ signaled that he’d completely mangled the Russian. Yuuri sighed and tried again.

“Eddah maaal _jeek_ ,” he said.

_Dong._

“Eh-ta malCHEEK.”

The computer program responded with a happy little chirp.

Yuuri sighed with relief, and then with a smirk, went looking for something else.

It was one thing to ask Yurio to translate Yakov’s curses. Yuuri knew better than to ask the teenager to translate _this_ , though.

Five minutes later, Victor’s voice rang out again. “Yuuuuuri! Dinner!”

“Coming!” Yuuri called back, and quickly closed out of the program, muttering the newly-learned phrase under his breath.

The little table in the kitchen was up against the far wall, just under the window that overlooked the river. It was a rather dull view in the daylight, which might have had something to do with the colorless landscape of winter, but at night, Saint Petersburg sparkled with lights. Victor had extended that with a few candles placed around the kitchen, where he stood absolutely beaming with pride, his hands on Yuuri’s chair.

“Dinner is served,” he said brightly, and Yuuri laughed.

“What’s this about?”

“I cooked,” said Victor, importantly.

“I’m impressed – and a little bit nervous,” said Yuuri, amused. “The last time you tried to make me cereal, I had to replace the fire extinguisher.”

“Yuuri is so mean to me,” complained Victor. “That fire extinguisher needed to be replaced, anyway.”

“So did the stockpot, as it turned out.”

“Sit,” said Victor, patting Yuuri’s chair, and Yuuri sat.

The table was neatly laid, and in the center was a large bowl with a lid. Yuuri couldn’t quite place the scent – but it smelled fantastic, whatever it was. Victor leaned over and lifted the lid with a flourish.

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. “ _Katsudon_?” he gasped. “Victor – you made _katsudon_?”

“Not exactly,” admitted Victor. “They didn’t have – I mean, the butcher’s. Didn’t have pork. So it’s chicken. But yes. Katsudon. That I made. Here. In our kitchen. With my own hands. And no fire extinguisher.”

“Wow,” said Yuuri, already mentally berating himself for his lack of faith in Victor’s ability to translate his talent to anything in the kitchen.

The katsudon was quickly served up, and Victor sat across from Yuuri, eyes bright, obviously eager to see Yuuri start to eat.

Yuuri took a bite.

Victor looked like he was going to go starry-eyed at any minute.

“It’s…”

“Good? Delicious? Best you’ve ever eaten?”

Yuuri swallowed. “Edible. I think you might have forgotten… well… the chicken.”

Victor frowned, and quickly took a bite.

And instantly broke into a flurry of Russian. The only bits that Yuuri was able to catch were _idiot_ (easy not just because it was the same in English, but because Yurio called him that on a daily basis), rubles (the local unit of currency), and the words “Japanese restaurant.”

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted him. “You didn’t make this food, did you?”

“Of course I did! Just me! I absolutely did not order this food from a restaurant and pass it off as mine!” protested Victor, but he was looking nervously at the counter – and when Yuuri glanced over, sure enough, he saw it.

A single take-away container, no doubt forgotten in the final sweep of evidence, with both Cyrillic and Kanji written clearly on the side.

Victor groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table. “I just wanted to do something nice for my _solnyshko_ ,” he groaned.

“But – why’d you say _you_ made it?”

Victor lifted his head. “I did try. It was… not good.”

Yuuri glanced nervously at the fire extinguisher, now easily accessible on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t burn the place down!”

“I don’t care if you can cook,” said Yuuri. “But if you want to – maybe start with something easier. Like eggs.”

Victor brightened. “I can make eggs. How hard can eggs be? We have eggs, right?”

Yuuri wanted to smother him in kisses. “Probably.”

Victor bounded up, back to his cheerful self. “I’ll make eggs. Very easy, eggs. How many eggs? Six? Ten? Two dozen?”

“I think four is probably fine for the two of us,” laughed Yuuri. “I’ll make the toast.”

“Yuuuri,” complained Victor. “You don’t believe I can make toast without setting something on fire?”

“Long experience,” said Yuuri firmly. He stood up, ready to make the toast.

It slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Ya tebie looboo.”

Victor’s back was to Yuuri – and his back went ramrod straight, frozen in the middle of the kitchen.

Yuuri’s eyes went wide and he covered his mouth in horror. “Oh no,” he whimpered. “I just insulted your grandparents, didn’t I?”

Victor spun around. “You’ve been learning Russian _without me_!”

“No, no, I just picked it up somewhere!” squeaked Yuuri. “Television! The radio! Somewhere!”

It wasn’t working. Victor’s eyes were so narrow, they were practically slits.

And then he turned and walked out of the kitchen and straight to the bedroom, and for a moment, Yuuri thought he’d completely destroyed _everything_ , and _OMG WHAT DID HE ACTUALLY SAY????_

“Victor, I’m sorry, I—"

“AHA!”

Victor came out of the bedroom, holding aloft the bright yellow box that Yuuri had purchased that afternoon and only installed on his computer half an hour before.

“Yuuri!” he sang out. “You’re cheating on me with Rosetta!”

“You’re cheating on me with Japanese House of Food!” retorted Yuuri.

“Woof!” retorted Makkachin.

Victor was smug and clearly highly amused. Yuuri was defensive and almost insulted.

They stared at each other for a moment, before bursting into giggles.

“Ya lyublyu tebya,” said Victor, the manic grin settling into something much kinder.

“Please, let’s never order from that place again,” said Yuuri, with a shudder.

“Okay,” said Victor. “We could order from somewhere else?”

Yuuri shook his head, took a breath, and spoke.

“Nyet. Yaytse, pozhaluysta.”

Victor broke into a grin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Eto mal'chik - this is a boy  
> Ya lyublyu tebya - I love you  
> Nyet. Yaytse, pozhaluysta. - No. Eggs, please.
> 
> There is a bonus epilogue of sorts in the comments, under Silestarna's comment, if you want to read it! :)


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